


Finding a New Normal

by celticvampriss



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Longing, My OC - Freeform, Romance, a prequel fic, baby yoda is in it, bit of a slow burn, but not a lot, but there is a suggestion of plot, lots of pining, mandalorian pov, still it's mostly about the romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticvampriss/pseuds/celticvampriss
Summary: This is a prequel fic to Established Rhythm.  It sets up my OC and the Mandalorian for romance, with a subtle suggestion at a plot to sort of drive them together.Kira is not quite a politician, but she is in danger.  People want her dead.  She is a person of influence who could be a great asset to the Mandalorian's and so they decide to protect her and get her off planet under the protection and care of our Mandalorian.  It isn't love at first sight, but maybe together they can find a new normal in the chaos surrounding them.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Finding a New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> People responded well to Kira in Established Rhythm so I decided to write out their history as I had originally planned.

A scream followed the hydraulic hiss of the central lifter and a body flew over the extending boarding ramp. It landed with a crunch on a bed of grime and dust, sending a wave of rodents scattering into the trash that had built up in the corner of the mud caked buildings. The sun was blocked by a haze of cloud and smog, the air thick with greenhouse heat that added a nice pungency to the overall smell.

The Mandalorian looked down at his feet, meeting a pair of wide brown eyes that naively saw no issues with the landscape they were about to enter.

“This is no place for a kid,” He said, almost to himself. The Kid liked the occasional sound or he’d get mischievous, and so Dyn was working on the habit of narrating. If only to save his ship from idle green hands. “Any chance I can get you to listen and stay put?”

The Kid cooed, already heading down the ramp.

Dyn sighed.

He let the Kid walk for exactly two tense minutes before scooping him up and quickly weaving his way through the city to his destination. He couldn’t say this was an ideal choice for a new base for the Enclave, but then it wasn’t his place to have a say. He was the reason they’d had to move. Dyn had already memorized the layout, easily finding the new base and proceeding inside. There, at least, surrounded by familiarity and even—despite the new scenery—as close a sense to ‘home’ as he could claim, The Kid would be safe on his own legs, but had protested being set down. With a sigh, Dyn continued to carry him.

As he neared the Armorer, the one who had summoned him, he noticed a face that didn’t belong. A woman with no helmet or armor—who wore quite the opposite in a brightly colored gown with dark hair twisted and bent into an elaborate design—his eyes lingered on her. It was jarring to see a face in the Enclave, he’d imagine it was similar to walking through the halls of your childhood home and seeing a ghost leaning on the kitchen counter chatting with your parents. 

He found the Armorer and set the Kid down as he sat and waited. She was in the middle of working and didn’t care to be interrupted.

With a spray of steam, she threw down her smithing gloves and came around to greet him with a silent nod, which he returned.

The Armorer’s gaze drifted briefly to the Kid and then back. “We have a time critical situation that will require your cooperation.”

“What do you need?”

“We need protection and immediate evacuation for her,” The Armorer gestured past the open archway of the armory, to the woman he noticed earlier.

His fists clenched. He couldn’t refuse the request. “Why? What does she need protecting from?”

“She’s proven to be a great asset to our community, with connections that might just get us some ground in our plans for the future. A little less hiding.”

“A politician?” No wonder she needed protection. 

“Not exactly, but there are those who will silence her if they had the chance. We can’t risk that. So you are going to get Kira Skye off this planet and keep her alive until we contact you.”

Dyn glanced at the woman again, her chin high in the air, shoulders set, though closer observation showed the snagged and frayed edges of her dress—recent damage—and that elaborate hair design was lopsided. If he were to guess, she was a highborn lady, someone who had grown up with credits and privilege. And still ‘no’ was not an option.

“Fine,” He relented, “But my ship is small, she’ll have to travel light.”

“She has one bag,” The Armorer gestured to a small, well made rucksack near the door.

They exchanged terse parting words and Dyn scooped up the Kid to leave. He hesitated, then grabbed the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. Out in the hall, the other Mandalorian’s had left, and she was alone and staring questioningly in his direction.

He sighed, resolving himself to this situation outside his control and silently hoping that it wouldn’t turn out the way he was predicting. Now, closer, he noted the signs of fear and unease in her posture and manners. “Guess you’re with me,” He said, “Come on.”

Kira followed him silently. If he knew that would be her only moments of silence, he might have appreciated it properly, for now he was only grateful to put that planet behind him and that she hadn’t cried. 

She marched up the boarding ramp, head high, and immediately crossed her arms as her eyes bounced around the main cabin. Once inside the Razorcrest, he set her bag and the Kid down. “Sit tight until I come back.” He headed for the cockpit.

“Wait,” She marched after him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting you off this planet,” He said, “As ordered.”

Her mouth opened and closed, green eyes flashing with a touch of insanity. Her heart was racing, too. He wasn’t sure what had brought her to this moment, but he was starting to piece it together. One bag, nice clothes that were freshly torn, and how hard she was trying to cover her fear and panic with forced confidence. She started to wring her hands together, fingers working over and over each other as her breathing grew heavier.

“Here, sit.” He guided her without touching her to a seat—a crate that was the right height—and then the shut bay door. 

“I’m fine. Really. I’ll be fine. I just,” She swallowed, “I just need some air.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that all her air would be recirculated from the air scrubbers and life-support systems for the foreseeable future. It was the kind of comment that wouldn’t help anyway. Instead he found a canteen and offered her old water that, maybe, hadn’t gone stale.

Kira chugged it, water spilling out the corners of her mouth, and when she finished she swiped at her lips with the back of her hand. “Thank you,” She said through heavy breaths, “I don’t remember the last time I drank anything.”

Sitting wasn’t wise. He needed to get them airborne and on their way if the threats to her life were that serious. Yet, every time he turned to do just that, she stopped him.

“Can I come?” She pleaded, eyes big and the barest tremor in her lips. The Kid had already crawled his way up there, though _how_ was a mystery, and he did have the seat for another. There wasn’t any reason to say no except that there was a lot of people encroaching on his solitude and, though he wouldn’t say he hated it, he wasn’t used to it either.

“Sure,” He relented. She crawled into the seat behind his, pulling her legs up under her and getting cozy. He’d never be that flexible, especially with all the armor. 

“What’s that flashing?” She asked, as the engines started up and he went through the launching sequences. He glanced down, where her finger was pointing.

“Proximity sensor.”

“What does that do?”

“Alerts when we’re close to things.”

He felt her rise, her hands gripping the back of his seat while she craned her head around him to look. “What about that?”

“It’ll take a long time to explain every switch or indicator,” He said, “And you should be seated. Or you’ll fall.”

She sat and he heard the safety harness click. “I have time, you know.”

He sighed. The Kid cooed in his lap while every other minute she fpund something new to say or ask. He counted one blessing, her constant talking was keeping the kid happy which meant he didn’t have to do it. Once they were moving, he technically didn’t have to stay in the cockpit, but he liked to. Or, rather, sitting in the cockpit had become a habit when he was alone and had nothing else to occupy him while traveling. Now, he supposed, there were things he could do, like see to Kira’s temporary living situation. The Kid had found a shelf to call home—forgoing the crib he’d tried to build for him—and didn’t take up much space. As for accommodations, the Razorcrest had exactly one sleeping cabin with one single bed. There was a cot somewhere in his gear, buried, but he’d have to make it work. He could hardly stick _her_ on the cot in the middle of the open.

“Where are we going?” She asked, ending a solid 47 seconds of silence.

“Not sure yet,” He said, “Right now, I’ve got us heading toward the outer rim. Best place to lay low.”

There was a touch of awe in her voice, which was so naturally expressive he hardly needed to see her to know every emotion she was feeling. “I’ve never been this far from home before. I’ll admit, for as much as I’m afraid, I’m also excited.”

“That’s nice,” He added, though it wasn’t to be dismissive. She seemed to pick up on that and babbled on.

“I’ve read about a great many planets, learning and reading are my favorite activities, since I hadn’t gotten out much as a child. If I’d known I was going to be traveling, I’d have read about ships and their functions. Then I’d have a better idea what all these things do,” She gestured around the cockpit, “Like I’ve been staring at that panel up there for ages, but I can’t decide if it’s meant to show the engines or the life-support functions.”

“Neither,” he said, “That’s an optical transducer panel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means there are sensors in places sensors aren’t normally found. Keeps the ship more secure.”

“How does it—”

“There’s a manual,” He said, rising and scooting around her legs to a cabinet above her head. He brushed off some of the dust and handed the data pad to her. “Everything about the ship is in there.”

The thing was a relic, he’d never touched it in the years since he’d owned the ship, but the look in her eyes when her fingers closed around half a century old data pad you’d think it was a gold plated set of rare jewels. She stood up, hugging the data pad to her chest, and they were very close together—nowhere else to stand—and she looked like she might try to hug him.

“Your room is down here,” He avoided quickly, heading down the ladder and away from the smothering intensity of her eyes. 

She followed him down, saying something about ladders and climbing them in dresses and impractical shoes, and how she really wished she had been able to grab a proper change of clothes. “As it is,” She continued, “It’s just more of this. I hadn’t a chance to…” She swallowed. “I took what I could and, unfortunately, that means nothing of real use. I don’t even have shoes.” She gestured to the high heel of her footwear and then proceeded to rip them off and chuck them in a corner. “I’ll clean those up later.” She said, marching barefoot past him.

“There’s only one cabin with a bed. I’ll need a few minutes to get what I need out, but then it’s all yours—”

She held up her hand in a very commanding gesture, though somehow she managed it without the condescending air. “Out of the question.”

“There’s no other room.”

She looked around, “I can figure out something out here.”

“You can take the room.”

“ _No_.” She crossed her arms, and gave him a look that said quite clearly he would not win this debate. She would outlast him.

He sighed. “Then all I have is a cot. I need to find it first.”

“I’ll help you look.”

They searched through the accumulated junk and odds and ends for a good half hour. Mostly silent, except she had to constantly ask him questions about the things she found. She even cleaned as she went, neatening each displaced object whether it was trash or not. Her path through the minimal storage space was an organized trail. He looked back at his path, and it was just a mess with a walkway in the middle. They found the cot after another half hour and he set it up and placed it against a wall. At least, without carbonite bounties taking up space, there was more room to walk, but that still didn’t leave much. There was also the issue that the cot needed to be secured. He found some tools and welded it in place. He’d hack it apart later. Or leave it, didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” she said once he finished. He nodded. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have much for sheets, but there’s an extra pillow.” This was a lie, there was only one and it was his, but he was starting to learn that if he told her that, she’d refuse it.

“Ha!” She tore open her rucksack and started tossing long, flashy garments over the faded, dull green canvas of the cot. “Guess they did have a use after all.”

“Can I get you anything else?” There wasn’t much else to offer.

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me.”

He nodded, then hesitated to leave. It was still bothering him, her not taking the room. He didn’t want to voice it, but he thought he could guess the reason. Still, the question wouldn’t come, so he watched her awkwardly for a second, before snapping back to his senses and attempting to leave.

“You want to know why I refused your room,” She stopped him, eyes knowing. How she had guessed his question, he decided not to imagine. She gave him a knowing wink and then tapped her head. “I know a bit about the culture and I’m not about to throw you out of your space when, of the two of us, _you’re_ the one who needs privacy.”

He had a feeling that was it, but then he hadn’t expected her—anyone, really—to be that considerate of what he needed. People often attempted. If they weren’t skirting the line of rudeness, then they would at least be civil about it. But never adjusting their own comfort for his.

He left her. He wasn’t quite tired, so he returned to the cockpit to try and settle on a place they could restock supplies. Her voice drifted up from her cot, a slow, luring song in words he didn’t understand. She was singing. He might have minded, except her voice was pleasing. Lyrical, but strong, he decided to enjoy it rather than tune her out by adjusting his audio sensors.

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep. He swiveled in his seat, glancing toward where she lay, but unable to see her. He only knew she slept because the singing had stopped. It had been nice, but the quiet was welcome. Alone, with only the sounds of the ship, it was a piece of his old normal. He settled back to enjoy the encompassing solitude, when Kira’s voice startled him into standing. He hopped down the ladder, though he couldn’t imagine that any danger had found her in the two hours since he’d left her, and he realized she was still sleeping. Her voice babbled incoherent strings of words and phrases. 

Of course she talked in her sleep. He had a feeling that his moments of solitary quiet would only exist in memory. 


End file.
